The Queen's Prophecy
by SDWilson
Summary: When Pologram Majoris fails to meet its tithe requirement, the rogue trader dynasty House Flavius is contacted with hopes that its history with the planet can lead to a remedy that will satisfy the Administratum's needs. But, things are more complicated than they at first appear.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

589.M38 Segmentum Ultima, Pologram Sector  
Magora, planetary capitol of Pologram Majoris  
Royal Colosseum  
The Celebration of the Grand Harvest

The young warrior proudly reveled in the moment as he stood in the sand covering the floor of the Royal Colosseum of Magora. Tens of thousands of people filled the stands and were screaming in anticipation, awaiting what came next. The sun reflected off the polished surface of the shield strapped to his left arm and the tip of the spear held in his right. He was a sculpture of bronze muscle obscured only by a dark leather skirt and a helm with a great black mane woven into it.

The crowd grew silent.

A great hole opened in front of the warrior and a dais began to slowly rise from the depths beneath the colosseum. Murmurs of anticipation began to circulate in the stands.

The beast lying upon the dais was terrible to behold. It was feline in form, covered in golden fur. The massive paws did not openly display their razor claws as they were retracted and awaiting the proper moment to rend flesh. A black mane surrounded its enormous head, a head whose great maw was filled with sharp teeth. The mane obscured a leather collar on the beast's neck, but not the great golden chain tethered to it and stretching to a great golden ring set into the floor of the dais. Finally, the dais came to a stop, the beast lying upon its top tier well above the warrior.

The warrior carefully watched the beast in front of him as its tail slowly twitched back and forth. Worry grew in his face, masked by the maned helm he wore. He had seen lions before, but never one such as this. The beast leapt to its feet and stood perfectly still, menacingly eyeing the warrior.

Silence filled the colosseum.

The warrior stepped back with his right foot into a crouch. He raised his polished shield, positioning it in front of his body with his left arm and readied the spear in his right. He was in the Royal Colosseum and this was the opportunity he had trained his whole life for.

A low whistle, impossible for the crowd to hear, signaled the beast's release from its tether. It sprang forward, impossibly fast for a normal animal of its size. The bronze warrior tried to adjust but he could not hope to match the beast's speed and brace his spear against its pounce. The mighty lion crashed into the warrior's shield, bowling him over onto his back.

The crowd screamed with excitement.

The lion and its prey thrashed upon the ground. The warrior struggled to reach his spear, but it lay on the ground hopelessly beyond his reach. He gave up on the spear and frantically tried to draw his gladius from his belt. But, his attempts were fruitless. The great cat weighed down upon him, pinning his body to the ground and his shield to his chest. He grasped its great head with his free hand but was no match for its strength. The lion clamped its maw down upon his throat and crushed. His body grew still but the great cat continued to tirelessly crush his throat.

The crowd grew eerily silent.

The great cat leapt to its feet, the warrior still clenched within its teeth, and trotted back to the top of the dais carrying its meal. Horns blared in triumph as the dais slowly sank back into the ground. The crowd erupted into near madness.

Within the Royal Suite of the colosseum, Queen Zamora slowly sipped wine from the long stemmed glass she held and then politely clapped. Those around her quickly joined in, lest they be caught not showing proper deference. Now that the battle between the warrior and lion had been completed, all eyes turned to the queen as she was a sight that few could resist admiring. She wore a short white linen dress that revealed her olive complexion and the long, muscular limbs of a warrior. Her long black hair was fashioned into many braids and her emerald eyes enchanted any whose glance she chose to return. As always, she was the center of attention.

The man sitting to her left was as enraptured with her as the rest of the entourage. He was of middling height, but plump in build, and middle aged with a balding patch in his short hair. His name was Titus Vescue and he was her husband. He was also the Imperium's assigned Planetary Governor of Pologram Majoris. Despite his impressive title, none seemed to notice him. None save for the Arbiter.

The Arbiter turned his black armoured body and goggled gaze away from the blood sport of the arena. He typically enjoyed such sporting events but the warrior had been no match for an organism biologically augmented off-world by a Genetor of the Adeptus Mechanicus. But, he paid that little heed. His presence on Pologram Majoris was to investigate reports the planet would not adequately meet its Imperial tithe requirements this Harvest. His investigation had found the reports to be valid. "Governor Vescue, I ask that we speak in private," he said.

All talk and movement within the suite ceased.

The Arbiter had not taken the courtesy to wait until Queen Zamora had given him leave to speak and it shocked the Queen's entourage. However, the Arbiter did not see himself as being subject to the rules of courtesy held by any society of the Imperium, much less a feudal state as this. The Governor looked at him, apparently befuddled by the situation. The Arbiter assumed the Governor was most likely feeling the effects of the wine he had been drinking. Then, the Queen whispered something into the Governor's ear and he took on a more sober appearance. "You may say whatever you wish in front of us all, dear Arbiter," said the Queen with a mocking smile.

Not the least perturbed by this turn of events, the Arbiter spoke plainly and forcefully. "Governor Vescue, the time has come for the Imperium's Grand Harvest. With the technological upgrades you have introduced, the Adeptus Administratum has adjusted the tithe requirements of Pologram Majoris as you requested. However, the troops levied as regiments for the Imperial Guard are inadequately trained and supplied with substandard equipment. They do not match the previous standard of excellence exhibited by this planet's levies." The Arbiter, paused to gauge whether or not he had the Governor's attention and then continued. "I have verified that the PDF's Premier Guard is satisfactory in both training and equipment. If they are substituted with a minimal delay time, this will be forgiven and your rule will continue uninterrupted."

The look of confusion returned to the Governor's face. Quickly recognizing something was amiss, the Arbiter took hold of his bolt pistol. Someone to the Arbiter's left threw his wine glass and splashed it on the Arbiter's exposed cheek. He quickly drew his pistol and turned to face his assailant, but found something was wrong. His vision become blurry and his hands shook. The Arbiter collapsed to the ground. He realized too late that the wine in the glass of his assailant had been laced with a contact poison. Pologram Majoris was not a world that possessed technology capable of matching the Imperium's production of war gear, but it had its own useful creations.

Queen Zamora laughed and her entire entourage laughed with her.

A short while later…

The crowd gave a subdued cheer as the chained warrior was raised from the chambers beneath the arena floor. They were initially puzzled by what they were witnessing. The chained warrior was young and muscular, but the pallor of his skin was so white as to mark him as an off-worlder. He held no spear or shield but had a great gorget about his neck that would give difficulty to any of the big cats used in the games. Neither did he have the traditional leather skirt worn by warriors of the games but instead was dressed in smallclothes whiter than his skin.

Then a lion was raised upon another dais, the hungry beast eyeing its prey. The cheer of the crowd began to swell. This, they understood.

The lion and off-worlder were simultaneously released. The pale off-worlder ran with great speed but was no match for the lion. It pounced upon his back, raking him with its claws. Then, it shuddered as if it had been shocked, and released the off-worlder. Somehow, despite the blood pouring from his open wounds, the off-worlder hopped to his feet and pranced in a circle about the lion.

The crowd screamed and laughed with excitement. This was a Grand Harvest unlike any they had witnessed before.

The game continued for a while. The off-worlder would run and then the lion would strike. Then, the lion would release the off-worlder and the chase would begin again. Finally, the off-worlder had lost so much blood as to be unable to continue and the lion tore him to shreds. The crowd erupted into a near riot.

Everyone in the Royal Suite stood and cheered. Governor Vescue smiled at his bride in a dull manner, oblivious to the words she whispered aloud, but to herself. "Just as the prophecy predicted, I will leave this planet for the stars. But, it will be on a ship of my choosing and not on one of the Black Ships like the one which took away my brother."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

589.M38 Segmentum Ultima, Cadoven Sector  
orbit over Cadoven Prime, onboard Conquest class Star Galleon _Polaris_

Matthias Riven confidently strode away from the landing bay and down the prime gangway of the fabled _Polaris_ , flagship of House Flavius' armada. His long black robes concealed the black battle armour that was standard issue for one of his rank. A bolt pistol was concealed within his robe's folds and a power sabre was at his side. He was a Justicar of the Adeptus Arbites and sedition amongst the nobles in the sectors of his jurisdiction was his domain of responsibility. But, the loyalty of House Flavius was not in question on this date. Accordingly, he felt security was not an issue onboard the _Polaris_ , but those who rose to his station did not last long by assuming such things. In addition to his personal armaments, he was escorted on either side by an Enforcer. Each Enforcer openly wore his black Imperial armor and had an open faced helmet with great black goggles hiding his gaze, adding a degree of mystique to his appearance. Each also carried a boltgun, ready to kill in order to protect his charge.

While he strode toward the gangway's end, Riven admired the power and history displayed around him. The voidcraft's machine-spirit emitted a steady and deep hum from the plasma engines in the core of the vessel, periodically broken by a sharp knock or twang. Despite the power of his station, he had rarely been surrounded by the amount of archeotech contained aboard the _Polaris_. It was a Conquest-class Star Galleon which had been crafted at the beginning of the Great Crusade nearly eight thousand years prior and the God Emperor himself had walked the gangway upon which he was treading.

At the prime gangway's terminus there was a great blast hatch with a vox-box mounted to the bulkhead and a pict-cap box mounted directly above it. Riven approached the hatch intending to speak, but was greeted by a modulated voice before he could begin. "Greetings, Justicar Riven. I am Alduous Homish, seneschal of House Flavius. It is an honour to be graced with your presence." Then after a pause, "Please enter, all Glory to the Emperor!" With that, the hatch raised, exposing the interior of a tram car. A mighty golden Eagle on a crimson field was emblazoned upon the opposite bulkhead of the tram car. Its wings were spread wide and a scroll was held in claws at the end of each leg. Riven easily recognized it as the standard of House Flavius.

The Justicar and his Enforcers stepped into the tram car and the hatch closed behind them. Riven made himself comfortable in a luxurious seat while his Enforcers remained standing and ready. "Transit beginning," came a modulated voice and the tram car smoothly began to move.

Justicar Riven calmly looked at the man sitting opposite him. Praetorus Flavius, patriarch of House Flavius, was one of the most powerful rogue traders in the Imperium of Man and looked every bit the part. According to the dossier Riven had read, Praetorus was 2.01m in height and 110kg in weight. Viewing the man in person, it was clear he was muscled rather than plump, and remarkably fit despite his age. His face had few lines and his short shock of hair was naturally black with no sign of grey. His deep blue eyes were calmly looking back at Riven. At that moment, the Justicar realized that not only was Praetorus one of the most powerful men in the Segmentum, he was also one of the most arrogant. Behind Praetorus' right shoulder stood an old and grizzled man who Riven instinctively recognized as the seneschal, Alduous Homish. Behind Praetorus' left shoulder stood a warrior even larger than the rogue trader. He was Maximilian, the commander of the Rojenderi, honour guard of House Flavius. Maximilian was suited in power armour which was styled in the fashion of the Great Crusade. It was black with a black mane on its open faced helmet. Great pauldrons were fastened over its shoulders and the livery of the Rojenderi was emblazoned upon its chest: a sable two headed eagle on a crimson field.

"Please, let us skip the formalities and speak of business, Lord Flavius." In the aftermath of the ork freebooterz who had menaced the area, the Justicar had many problems with which to deal. Most notably, he was short of the manpower necessary to deal with large scale troubles should they emerge in his demesne. He did not wish to waste time with pleasantries.

"A pity, but please elaborate, Justicar." The Justicar had thought he was beyond being bothered by petty details such as the arrogance of Planetary Governors and rogue traders alike. After hearing Praetorus' voice, he reassessed that conclusion.

"There is trouble originating on Pologram Majoris," began Riven. The rogue trader showed no sign of familiarity or surprise and it bothered the Justicar to no end. "I believe the Governor has lost his mind. His current tithe does not meet the fair criteria established by the Administratum. When confronted by my Arbiter assigned to the planet regarding this, he committed treason. My arbiter was sacrificed as sport in the blood games they hold in honour of the Imperium's Grand Harvest." Riven paused, waiting for a response from the rogue trader.

"Please go on and elaborate on how you plan to relate this to me."

Justicar Riven became angry for a moment and then regained his composure. He was certain Praetorus knew exactly why he had been contacted. He continued in as straight forward a manner as he could manage. "Due to the myriad problems facing the sectors of the Imperium under my control, the Administratum has asked that I find a resolution to this problem that will not affect the planet's ability to meet its tithe." Seeing he now had the rogue trader's attention, he continued. "The founder of your House, Claudia Flavius, first returned the inhabitants of Pologram Majoris to the Imperium's fold nearly eight millennia ago. Your deceased wife, may she rest in the Glory of the Emperor, was of the Royal Family of Pologram Majoris. The Governor, Titus Vescue, is married to Queen Zamorah, the reigning monarch of Pologram Majoris. My hope is that you will be able to use your long standing connections to the Royal Family to depose the Governor with a minimal amount of bloodshed. Thus, preserving the premiere troops of the planet and allowing them to augment the Harvest."

The rogue trader displayed neither a hint of surprise or excitement. He merely responded in a calm manner. "This is the responsibility of the Adeptus Arbites and I have already met my Imperial tithe due both this century and the next. What will there be to gain if I step outside my domain of responsibilities and accomplish this?"

"The Administratum is prepared to grant title of Pologram Majoris as a feudal domain," answered the Justicar.

"Do tell," Praetorus began with a smug arrogance that grated upon the Justicar. "So, I will gain all the headaches of controlling a planet that is currently causing you problems and be required to keep it in line so as to continue properly meeting its tithe. That is my payment?"

Not liking how this was turning, Riven responded. "So, what terms will you be more agreeable to?"

"The title will be accepted with stipulations. If this turns to bloodshed, the tithe will be limited in manpower, much less the best manpower available. So, first, I will have the single best Imperial regiment of the tithe to be allotted into my service." The Justicar nodded as he felt that was an appropriate request and not of too great a cost. "Second, I have little time to spend caring for a planet. The Administratum will arrange for a regency to govern in my stead. As I think highly of the manner in which the Ultramarines govern their system, the Administratum will look toward the realm of Ultramar for both guidance in organizing this regency and individuals to man it."

Justicar Riven thought for a moment about the offer laid before him and then answered, "That will be acceptable to me. However, I must seek approval from the Administratum." This was better than he had planned. He was envious of the stability that had always been a part of Ultramar and would be satisfied if a similar society could be cultivated on Pologram Majoris.

The two men stood and shook hands. "All Glory to the Emperor," they said in unison, thus concluding the business between two of the mighty of Segmentum Ultima.


End file.
